


Decision Trees

by claro



Series: What we could have been [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 23:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18324524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: Bill has a decision to make, but like everything else at Baker Street, it can be as simple or as complicated as you like





	Decision Trees

Bill closed his notebook and pushed it away from him, his chin resting on his other hand.

It has been weeks of deliberations, pro and con lists, running through every possible scenario. He'd created page after page of what Sherlock called decision trees, branches sprouting off and rapidly multiplying away from the central problem. And the truth was, he already knew what he needed to do, but he had no idea how to say it aloud, already knowing it was selfish.

He'd been building up to talk to Sherlock about it, but there hadn't been a right time and it wasn't something he wanted to blurt out, so Bill had turned it over in his own mind, not sleeping and unable to think of much else. It was clear that Sherlock could see there was something bothering Bill, but the detective didn't ask, just watched him warily.

Bill sighed and pushed himself slowly up from the table, turning to fill the kettle. Maybe tea would help. It seemed to be the answer to most problems according to Mrs Hudson, and while Bill wasn't entirely convinced, he was pretty sure it was a better solution than scotch.

'What's this?' Sherlock's voice came from right behind him. Fuck sake, that man moved like a bloody cat!

Bill looked up from the milk jug to find Sherlock leafing through his notebook. He felt himself pale.

'It's...I...' he sighed again and turned to the cupboard above him, pulling out an envelope that he'd hidden inside a box of bran flakes knowing that was the last place Sherlock would ever look. He'd rather starve than resort to cereal. Silently he handed the envelope to Sherlock who opened it, eyes narrowing as he read, and then widening again.

'Director of Maternity Services?' his expression was neither happy nor upset, instead he looked a bit angry, probably because Bill hadn't told him and he hadn't guessed, 'They've offered you a promotion.' It wasn't a question.

Bill nodded, 'It's a big one. I wasn't expecting...bit of a shock,' he admitted.

'It shouldn't have been.' Sherlock's tone was sharper than Bill expected, 'You are the best at what you do.'

The midwife's mouth dropped open. That was high praise from Sherlock Holmes and Bill didn't really know what to say.

'You're going to take it, I presume? Of course you are, why wouldn't you?' Sherlock was talking more to himself now.

'Because I'm an old man, Lock...'

'You're fifty four, hardly old.'

'I've six kids, a grandchild....a very demanding husband,' he smiled fondly at Sherlock before the comment caused the detective to worry, 'It's a lot of hours, more work, more responsibility.'

'You wouldn't have been asked if you weren't capable.'

'...and it's a  _lot_ of money.' Bill's voice was quiet. He and Sherlock didn't talk much about money, they'd had a joint account for twenty years and Bill didn't think Sherlock even knew how much was in it. But between Sherlock's trust and inheritance, his police retainer and his private cases, and even after buying Baker Street from Mrs Hudson at more than market value, it was still running close to three million, more than enough to keep Bill, Sherlock and all of their kids for the rest of their lives. By contrast Bill's very generous consultant midwife salary of eighty two thousand seemed pitiful, even though he knew it wasn't at all. But that didn't stop him feeling like he wasn't contributing as much as Sherlock, not even close.

Sherlock turned the page and read the second part of the letter and nodded, 'That is a lot of money.'

Bill was chewing on his lip as he watched Sherlock read. When he'd finished the detective's frown deepened.

'Why are you undecided?'

And that was really the question.

'Like I said, it's a lot of work.'

'You like your job.'

That was an understatement, Bill LOVED his job.

'I wouldn't get to do that any more, it would be office work, boardrooms, budgets....' he had enough of that as it was.

'You wouldn't be on the ward anymore?'

Bill shook his head.

'Then say no.'

'But the money-'

'We have money!' Sherlock declared and then looked uncertain and panicked, 'Don't we? Do we need money? Have we spent it all? Did one of the children hack our bank account again?'

Bill couldn't help the snort of laughter as he shook his head, 'No, there's....a lot in there.'

Sherlock stopped his pacing, 'So we don't need the money?'

After a pause Bill shook his head, 'No, but I could contribute more-'

The sound Sherlock made was rude and the slam of the bin as he threw the decision notebook away echoed through the kitchen with a sound of finality.

'Turn it down,' Sherlock said.

'But...'

'We both know you don't want it.'

That, Bill knew in his heart was true, but he still looked at his husband, uncertain.

'I really like delivering babies,' Bill said quietly.

'And I like catching murderers,' Sherlock started to smile, 'So let's stick to what we are good at.'

Bill stretched up and kissed Sherlock's nose, 'You are a smart man.'

'Of course.' Sherlock smiled and handed Bill his mobile, 'Now call them and tell them.'


End file.
